


Foreshadowing

by anr



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-15
Updated: 2004-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told her. Once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreshadowing

**Author's Note:**

> _Harbinger_ (3x15), _Breaking The Ice_ (1x08), _Azati Prime_ (3x18)
> 
> Vulcan translations in mouseover.

"I've only been in three relationships," he tells her, once, over candles and culture, "and they all went bust."

He wonders if she's listening.

  


* * *

  


The first time is too much of a surprise, too adolescent, too quick.

He thinks he can do better.

  


* * *

  


"Slow now," he says. "Easy."

They're still on the meditation mats, naked and maybe a little awkward. Her back is to him and she looks over her shoulder with an eyebrow quirk so familiar, so telling. He loves that expression on her.

"It was my understanding that human males needed time before attempting intercourse again."

He just doesn't necessarily love what it says.

"Then it's a good thing we're not _intercoursin'_." He places his hands on her shoulders, her skin smooth beneath his palms, and when he runs them down her spine she arcs away from him so naturally. Feline, he thinks, and smiles.

"Neuropressure?"

He traces the sharp flare of her hips, the outer curve of her breasts. Leans forward to touch his mouth to her nape and draws his hands across her stomach, between her thighs. Touching what he can't quite see.

"Foreplay."

They shift and turn and lie down on the mats. Kissing. Kissing. He walks his fingers over her hairline, her eyebrows, her nose... stops when he reaches her cheeks and she flinches. Kisses her again and moves lower, tasting, lower and lower...

"If you're looking for an erogenous zone--"

"Don't," he says, spreading his fingers across her ribs, his lips on her stomach. "Don't tell me. I've missed this too much."

"Commander," she says, "we have never--"

"Discovery," he says, "adventure. Searchin'..." He kisses her hip and then to the right and below, remembering: "we were explorers once."

  


* * *

  


She tastes like rain. Like a summer storm with the humidity too high and lightning crackling on the horizon. Florida in September, the hurricane season. Hurricane T'Pol: he smiles.

And not so different from earth girls, really. Just sleeker, more spare. Nothing excessive and nothing wasted. Like her name, he thinks. A contraction, an abbreviation, an iceberg with only a hint on show and so much more submerged. (And he's dreamed of melting her for so long; can hardly believe he's daring to try now.)

He touches every part of her; is a little surprised that she lets him; savours every sense. Touch, taste, smell, sight and sound.

"Commander," she says, when he licks her _just there_ , "sanoi..."

He really is going to have to learn Vulcan one of these days.

  


* * *

  


He thinks watching her right now, like this, all sweat-slicked and breathing hard (well, somewhat uneven), with her legs framing his shoulders and her hands resting on the top of his head, eyes just a little closed and lips parted, is pretty much the. sexiest. thing. he's ever seen.

A smirk on his lips as he imagines putting this into his report to Starfleet one day. _Somethin' good about the Expanse, Sir? Oh, that one's easy. Makin' T'Pol orgasm. No contest._

  


* * *

  


Lying side by side now, her hands exploring him.

"You ever done this before? With a human, I mean?"

"No."

Her mouth on his sternum, then lower. He flinches and she stops.

"Sorry," he says, wry and a little embarrassed, "told you I was ticklish."

She nods and shifts, changes angles and tactics. His eyes roll back into his head at the nip of her teeth.

"Christ," he breathes out, his hands landing on her shoulders hard. "So help bein' married to you, T'Pol." She could kill a man dead doing things like that ( _though_ , and he smiles at the thought, _what a way to go_ ).

She pauses, her eyebrow arching. "You've imagined us wedded?"

"What? No. Never." _Vulcan ceremonial robes (hers white, to appease his mother, who will intimidate T'Pol just a little--not that she'll ever admit to it) and honeymoonin' in Risa. Livin' together on Enterprise. Trips back to Vulcan and Earth once a year without fail. Children, eventually (Charles Tucker IV and a little girl with ears just like her mother's)._ "'S not what I meant."

She nods once, her expression unreadable, and resumes.

He thinks he'll just keep his mouth shut from now on.

  


* * *

  


No thinking of Lizzie; not even once, not even in passing.

This isn't a nightmare.

  


* * *

  


But then it almost is because their third time is most definitely a mistake and he's looking into her eyes at the right wrong moment and knowing-- _knowing_ \--suddenly that this is it.

That _she_ is it.

And his heart stops and the tactical alert sounds and he has never felt so relieved in all his life.

He runs gladly.

  


* * *

  


This is screwing up.

"In fact, we should probably just forget it ever happened."

  


* * *

  


And this is trying to fix it.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

  


* * *

  


Candles and culture and her preoccupation with being the best. damn. Vulcan. ever as he told her he wasn't any good at this.

He thinks one of them should've paid attention. 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/126433.html>


End file.
